


Boredom

by Bunney



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 22:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunney/pseuds/Bunney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's bored and Ginny is in the wrong place at the wrong time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boredom

I was bored.

It was our first trip into Hogsmeade this school year. I was in Honeydukes, watching Crabbe and Goyle select a truly colossal amount of sweets, one, well, two of everything. I didn’t bother; the sweets my mother sent me every week, expensive, imported candy from Switzerland, put the rubbish in this place to shame. I leaned back against the Chocolate Frog display, smirking at the first years that were trying to reach around me and didn’t quite have the stones to ask me to move. 

Which I wouldn’t have. 

I’m unpleasant like that, you know.

I was about to go and pull Crabbe’s hand out of the Bertie Botts display, when a flash of crimson in the sea of students caught my eye.

A Weasley, of course. The littlest one. Ginny.

I couldn’t help it if my smirk became an outright sneer, now could I? 

She was alone, surprisingly. Still, I slowly searched the room for any sign of the Mudblood or Potty. No other red heads stood out, so her oafish brothers were nowhere to be found. She was all by her lonesome.

I watched as she paid for a handful of Drooble's and tucked the tiny bag into an inner pocket in her robe. When she left the shop, I followed her. Crabbe and Goyle would be hours and I was bored.

Well, not so much anymore.

She wasn’t at all hard to follow. Crimson hair, shabby robes, too many freckles to be pretty. Still, I couldn’t help enjoying the rear view as she window-shopped. The littlest Weasel had put on some curves over the summer and her too small school robes couldn’t hide the swell of her hips. 

I grinned to myself, an idea that repulsed me coming to mind. Well, should have repulsed me, anyway. I’d think on that more later, back at Hogwarts. I had a plan for Miss Ginny Weasley right now. 

I darted into an alleyway that I knew curved around the block of shops she was passing. I’d be able to get in front of her without anyone being the wiser. Besides, the streets were full of Hogwarts students and professors and even I knew better than to harass one of Dumbledore’s favorite students in plain view of everyone.

Besides, she had too many brothers for me to curse at once. I surely didn’t need that headache in my life.

I peeked around the corner and almost came face to face with her. She was looking in the window of Gladrags and didn’t see me. Thinking quickly, I cast a small charm, the sound of kittens crying. I’d be willing to bet she’d have a soft heart for the sounds of hunger, which she probably knew quite well.

When she stepped into the alley, she didn’t even have time to grab for her wand before I jerked her farther back into the shadows. I covered her mouth with one gloved hand and dragged her into the shelter of a deeply recessed doorway. Her eyes were fastened on my face, not as frightened as I would’ve liked, but fiery, promising revenge.

Heh, so the littlest Weasley urchin had a streak of fire in her. That made things...interesting.

I bullied her into the entryway, blocking any escape with my body. I had grown quite a lot over the past two years and I was very nearly my father’s impressive height. And while she wasn’t short, she still only came up to my shoulder. It was a simple thing to use my size to intimidate her.

Pressing the tip of my wand into the side of her neck, I removed my hand from her mouth. To her credit, she stayed silent, only her cinnamon-brown eyes communicating for her.

“What, cat got your tongue, Weasley?” I whispered, drawing my wand along the curve of her jawline.

“I suppose asking you to move would be fruitless?” she snapped.

“Most likely. I’m bored and I want to have a little...fun.” I drew out the last word and watched as her imagination ran wild. Let her think I was going to molest her.

Which I was. Maybe. If I could get past the Weasley-ness of her.

“Malfoy, what game are you playing? Leave me alone.” This time she did try to push past me, her palms flat against my chest, but I had nearly a foot and 75 pounds on her, so I didn’t budge.

Instead, I placed my hand in the center of her chest and easily slammed her back against the door, knocking the breath out of her and revealing the fear hidden in her eyes. 

“Ahhh...there we go, little Weasel, just what I wanted to see.” I whispered, looming over her. 

I tucked my wand away, while crowding close enough to her to prevent her from reaching for her own. There were tears in her eyes now, shimmering, but not falling. The loathing flaring out at me was lyrical. I couldn’t help grinning at her fury.

“I...let me go and I won’t tell anyone,” she said softly, dipping her head, but too afraid to take her eyes from mine. 

I braced one leg against her knees, effectively holding her immobile, while I stripped the dragon-hide glove from my right hand. I shoved it in the pocket of my robes. With the other, I scooped up a handful of her long hair, surprisingly heavy against my palm. It sparkled, even in the dim light of the alley and I wondered idly if she’d used a glamour on it, to make it that shiny.

Where had that come from, I wondered, disgusted with myself. Tangling my hand in those strands, I jerked her head back at an obviously uncomfortable angle. She cried out, once, and I tightened my grip, the back of her skull thumping against the stonework of the entryway. 

This time her tears spilled over, streaking over her pale cheeks. 

She couldn’t have looked any sweeter to my eyes.

“Why the tears, love? Am I hurting you?” I said. Leaning closer, knowing my face was the only thing in her vision, I slowly licked the droplets dampening her cheeks. She shuddered and tried to pull away.

Another shake of her head and she gasped. “Do I disgust you, Weasley? Can’t stand to have my hands on you?”

Her eyes blazed with rage. “I loathe you, Malfoy! Everything about you makes me ill!” she snarled and I wasn’t at all surprised to find that her kittenish display of temper was making me hard. And as close as I was to her, she could feel it too.

“Temper, temper, Weasel. You aren’t a redhead for nothing, are you?” I laughed. The worn clasp on her robes came open with a flick of my fingers and it was just as easy to tug her wool skirt up over her hips. She struggled then, with all the terror of a virgin. “No!”

“Why?”

The question threw her and she frowned through her tears. “Why? Because it’s wrong!”

My fingers were now tracing the lacy edge of her knickers which, a quick glance assured me, were pink. “I’m not doing anything. Yet.”

Her face flamed with humiliation as I carefully slid one finger under the elastic edge and brushed over her curls. “Are you as red down there as you are here?” I asked, holding up the handful of her hair. I lifted the soft mass to my face and took a deep breath. Soap, the faintest hint of woodsmoke, something undeniably woman.

She was staring at me now, tears stopped but not completely gone. She was as rigid as a board. I tilted closer and touched my lips to hers, just a ghost of a touch really, and then I slipped my finger deeper between her thighs. 

The heat was startling, like standing too close to the fire or burning the roof of your mouth. I drew my finger over the cleft there, feeling the wiry curls and a smoother, softer velvet underneath. I nuzzled the side of her neck, licking the little curve of her earlobe and she shuddered under me.

I pushed my knee between hers and forced her to part them. She was crying again, her face turned away from mine. Her breath was coming in shallow, hitching gasps. I delved deeper, pushing my finger past the dry edges of her cunt and stroked over the inner folds.

Why, was it my imagination, or was she bucking against my hand? With a brutal twist of her hair, I brought her face to face with me again. She defiantly met my gaze, even as I slowly circled my finger, well, fingers, by now, since my whole hand was inside her knickers.

“Tell me what you feel, little Ginny.”

She bit her lips as I rubbed my thumb lazily over the stiff little nub of her clit. “I...stop, please...”

I spread my legs a bit, so I could reach her better. My erection was pressed against her thigh and she was rocking back and forth, just a little, but enough that I could feel little shockwaves of pleasure skittering in my stomach. I carefully pushed my middle finger inside her and was surprised at the slickness that eased the way. 

So, little Ginny wasn’t as offended as she’d like to be.

I kissed a trail down to the demure neckline of her blouse, then back up to her mouth. I didn’t kiss her, but whispered against her lips, “Tell me what you feel, Ginny.”

As it was, she didn’t need to, because she cried out sharply, thrusting her hips up, against my hand. Well, it was rather obvious what she was feeling by that moment, wasn’t it?

Her hand was wrapped around my wrist, alternately tugging on it and forcing my fingers deeper. I pushed another one inside her, then another, watching her wince in pain and something else. 

When she came, she was almost beautiful. 

I pressed a quick kiss to her trembling lips and pulled my wet fingers from her knickers and lifted them to my mouth with a wicked smirk. The horrified look on her face was worth it as I licked her off my fingers. She was slumped against the door, her skirt still hiked up to her waist and her thighs damp with her own moisture. 

I adjusted myself, still hard and wanting, but I’d be damned if I was going to stick it in a Weasley. I do have some standards, you know.

With a nasty grin, I left her there, still trembling in the aftershocks of her orgasm and fumbling with her skirt. I imagined I’d find Crabbe and Goyle in Honeydukes, still bickering over who had the bigger stash of candy.

I was bored.

~fin~


End file.
